Life's Little Cruelties
by ardavenport
Summary: Snape is preparing potions for the upcoming year at Hogwarts when the headmaster comes in for a special visit.


**LIFE'S LITTLE CRUELTIES**

by ardavenport

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The first and longest list had come from Madame Pomfrey.

It always was. As school matron, she had a constant demand for healing potions and salves, especially at the beginning of the school year when she replenished all her stocks.

Standing before the open cupboard of his private potions stores in his dungeon office, Severus Snape went down the list of sniffle tonics and acne disappearers that she used to smother the weaklings with. Quite a lot of them would benefit from less coddling. But that was Madame Pomfrey's preserve. He did not interfere. If she wanted to benefit from his advice, she could ask for it.

He noted a few nearly empty jars on the dark polished wood shelves and peered into some of the small drawers where everything was properly stored in their cool, dark places.

Going back to his desk, he cross-referenced the lists with his own requests from Professor Sprout's greenhouses. The teachers' lists were much shorter than Madame Pomfrey's, some with only one or two things. Other than a few advanced subjects, most of the regular classes taught at Hogwarts did not require potions.

The students would not arrive for a few weeks, but he and most of the other teachers needed that time to prepare for the mass onslaught of youth and immaturity.

Snape glanced up at the knock on his door.

"Enter," he called out, returning to his master list of all the potion requests that would fulfill the school's needs.

"Aaaah, I'm glad I found you, Severus," Professor Dumbledore's voice answered. Quill scratching on parchment, Snape noted the numbers of days he would need to prepare each potion as the headmaster approached.

Another list appeared and landed in front of him. Snape laid his quill down and surveyed what Dumbledore had presented.

"Unicorn hair? I don't have any in my stores at the moment."

"No matter. I've spoken with Hagrid about it. He should be able to come up with the few I need in the next day or so," Dumbledoore answered. "I'll make sure he brings some for you as well."

Snape scrutinized the new request. It was not a list of magical potions. It was ingredients. Obviously, Dumbledore would brew his own. . . .

_. . . . moonstone, salamander eggs, ginger, scarab beetles . . . . peppermint?_

Snape raised his brows. Flavoring a potion was a ridiculous flourish, but Dumbledore's eccentricities often concealed his true brilliance as a wizard. He read down to the bottom of the scrap of parchment. Of course one could not fully appreciate the purpose of a potion from just the ingredients, but one could surmise the general purpose. . . .

. . . . And which ingredient was not on the list.

"I do not have any dragon's blood, either." He lowered the paper.

Dumbledore's mouth quirked in a smile. "I'm having some flown in by owl from Romania. It should be here tomorrow. I just need the other things. Except for the peppermint. I found some after all." He held out a fat, striped humbug. "Have one?"

Snape waved the sweet off. Dumbledore shrugged and popped it in his mouth and smoothed down his long silvery beard as he crunched on the peppermint.

The chair legs scraping on the stone floor as he pushed it back, Snape rose. His black robe sweeping behind him, he went back to his cupboard of private stores, opened a drawer of small empty packets and bottles. He unstoppered a tiny bottle and began doling out exactly twelve salamander eggs into it with a very delicate pair of sliver tweezers. Dumbledore, his own worn green and blue robe brushing the floor, followed.

"Professor Sprout has promised me that she will be coaxing her fairy jasmine into bloom in the next few days, if you prefer fresh."

"Mmmmm, no. In fact, I think that something aged will work much better for this."

Snape stoppered the bottle, cutting off the faint fishy smell inside and half turned to the older wizard before putting it on a sideboard. He took out a small envelope, blew it open and began measuring out teaspoonfuls of dried, ground live oak bark.

"I believe that this is the seventh use for dragon's blood? Revelation, I believe?" Snape noted casually without taking his eyes off his work.

"With a minor variation," Dumbledore replied airily without further explanation.

Snape finished filling the envelope, neatly folded over the flap and took out another. "So, you have not located the Dark Lord." He stated the obvious. If Dumbledore had found the Dark Lord since his first reappearance, when he tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone at the end of the last school year, he would have destroyed him, or whatever diminished creature he had become. And the news of that end would have traveled like lightning throughout the magical world.

"Oh, no, no. This is not for that. The Wizengamot is considering inducting some new members. This is part of a test of their suitability." Dumbledore exhaled. "Lord Voldemort has vanished. Again. And even if a revelation could find him, he has put himself beyond death. He cannot be killed in his current form."

"Really?" Snape arched a brow toward the elder wizard. "One would wonder why he would be in need the Philosopher's Stone at all then." He turned back to doling out potion ingredients into small packets.

"Cheating death is a poor substitute for living."

Pausing, Snape considered this. He had not seen the apparition that inhabited Professor Quirrell's body, but he had no doubt about what it was. Of course, Quirrell had been suspected of being in league with the Dark Lord, but Snape never imagined what form his service would take.

Weaklings. Disembodied, the Dark Lord was reduced to relying on weaklings. But still powerful enough to be un-killable, even by Dumbledore. _Unless . . . . ._

"Perhaps, the Dark Lord can be killed. You might have stayed your hand a bit much that night. To spare Potter."

He felt Dumbledore's presence, coming a step closer at his back. Tensing, Snape's fingers froze, holding a packet of ginger.

"I assure you, my dear Severus, that if the blow that ended Professor Quirrell's life had been able to kill Lord Voldermort, it would have. I would not allow even Harry - nor you for that matter - to be an obstacle to destroying him."

His hands steady, lips pressed together, Snape did not answer that ominous tone. During the Dark Lord's time it was most often heard by overconfident Death Eaters - mistaking Dumbledore's frivolous persona of a doddering old fool for weakness - just before they were incinerated.

Dumbledore turned away. Snape let out his breath, put the packet aside and reached for a bottle.

"They are tied together, Lord Voldermort and Harry Potter. I am sure of it."

"So the prophecy says." Snape silently cursed the day he had ever heard it.

"It is not just the prophecy. The same magic that has protected Harry from Voldermort binds them together. It is new magic. Unlike anything that has ever been seen."

Dumbledore had spoken of this before, but never explained it. At least not to Snape. But a wizard of his caliber did not need to explain himself. Snape pulled out a small wooden drawer for the last ingredient on the list, a box of powdered owl claw.

. . . A subtle whispery sound behind him. . . . A wand whipped out from fabric. Snape half turned - - -

"Legilimens!"

_- - Harry Potter, the near mirror image of James - - but with Lily's green eyes looking at him the whole year; curse James! - - arrogant, attention-seeking, always wanting to be the most popular, loving the undeserved glory that was purchased for him with Lily's death - - of course she would protect her baby; she could do no less - - Potter and his little friends, so self-important - - unable to see that some muggleborn should not be cast aside, the Dark Lord betrayed him - - Potter, the seeker on the Gryffindor Quiddich team! - - but he learned far too late that the Dark Lord eventually cast everyone aside, used them up and kept all the power for himself - - too late, too late, too late to save her - - another pathetic crop of first years, and Potter causing trouble right there among them - - Lily saw the Dark Lord for what he was; why didn't he listen to her? - - Dumbledore protecting him - - if Potter was useful for destroying the Dark Lord, then so be it - - miserable student, laggard, expecting praise and treats at every turn - - he would crush every bit of James' arrogance from the boy - - he had as good as driven her to James; why didn't he listen to her? - - _

The glow of magic and torrent of memories flicked off; Snape's knees gave out. Crashing to the floor, he caught himself with his hands on the cold stone floor. He panted for long minutes while Dumbledore walked around him. Glass clinked on wood; drawers opened while Dumbledoore finished collecting his ingredients.

_Black night. Thick, absorbing all light, all thought, all emotion._ Snape smothered his mind in cold, cold starless night. Too late to guard himself from Dumbledore's legilimancy. But the older wizard would not get a second chance.

Slowly, Snape pushed himself up, then shakily rose to his feet. Dumbledore had produced a black silk bag that he must have brought with him and now tucked his potion ingredients into it.

"Do you have so little trust in my service, that you could imagine that I would ever serve the Dark Lord again?" he asked, his voice low, his words clipped and dispassionate.

"Not willingly, no. But with Voldemort's return, trust is a luxury we can ill afford now." Dumbledore faced him, his expression sad, but not apologetic.

"If I seriously thought that Lord Voldemort had sought refuge in your body, Severus, I would have paid you a visit much sooner than this." He looked relieved, but Snape sensed a hint of disappointment. "It was a slim chance at best."

Brushing the dust off his dark robe, Snape glowered back. He watched as Dumbledore finished putting the potion ingredients into his black bag. The little bottles clinked amidst the sealed packets inside.

"He's not like his father really," Dumbledore commented mildly, pulling the drawstring on the bag taut, "at that age at least. Except in appearance, of course. He really is much more like his mother,"

_How dare he!_

Snape clenched his teeth. Then suppressed his flaring anger. He would not give Dumbledore another opening. Harry Potter was the loathsome reincarnation of James. It was only cruel fate that Lily had chosen such a detestable person to father her child. But Snape could hardly fault her for that. He, himself, had chosen nearly as badly with the Dark Lord.

Life was like that. Cruel.

"So, you think that I should fawn over him like all the others? Treat the famous Harry Potter like a wonder child who honors us with his presence?" Snape enunciated every word carefully.

Dumbledore's blue eyes appraised him. Snape did not even allow himself a swell of pride that there was no weakness in his occulmency now. Dumbledore lowered his gaze.

"No. Of course not. But," Dumbledore held up a warning finger, "make no mistake. Voldemort is as capable as I am of seeing into your mind, Severus, if he ever thought he needed to. He will use every means available to return. And if we fail to stop him, I will call upon your services again to defeat him."

"I _never_ let my guard down with the Dark Lord."

"I expect not. Nor would you ever give him a reason to suspect your motives." The headmaster sighed. "Your antipathy toward James gives you the perfect camouflage of being a natural ally." He turned away. "It is a necessary cruelty, I suppose."

"Life if cruel. It is past time for Harry Potter to learn that lesson."

Dumbledore stopped, hand on the half-opened door, and pinned him with his blue stare again. "Oh, he knows it already, Severus. Far better than you realize."

###_### **END** ###_###

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Also posted on tf.n: 19-Jun-2010

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations belong to JKR; I'm just playing in her sandbox.


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